Break Me Down and Build Me Up
by CamsthiSky
Summary: What if Robin: Year One took place in the Young Justice world? A story how Robin and Kid Flash first meet. Rated for language


**Let me get this straight before you dive into this story. It is VERY different from the Robin: Year One comic. There's no dialogue from the comic itself, although there are references. I'm not the biggest fan of the execution of the comic, but I do like all four issues, even if the ending left something to be desired.**

 **Anyways, I just want to make sure it's understood that I used the comic as a loose story line to play with, taking the parts I found fit into the Young Justice world and refitting them into a plausible story.**

* * *

There was blood dripping into Dick's eyes from his forehead, but all he could do was squeeze them shut. He couldn't move his arms, couldn't move his _body._ He hurt, he hurt so much that it was almost unbearable, but worst of all were the images. Two-Face bearing down on him with a baseball bat, Judge Watkins dropped to his death.

Dick just wanted to cry into Bruce's arms and pretend that none of this had ever happened.

"Hang in there, Robin," Bruce murmured, and Dick couldn't help but cry out when someone lifted him up, his cape wrapped around him like a blanket. Bruce was carrying him, he realized, taking him away from this horrible place, from the man he'd just killed, from the man who'd almost killed _him,_ and Dick's breath hitched in his throat.

He didn't deserve to have Bruce's arms cradling him like this. He deserved to drown with the judge he'd just sentenced to die because he'd thought he could outsmart Two-Face, and he'd been _wrong._ He'd never been so wrong in his life.

"Stay with me, Dick," Bruce demanded, and Dick felt it with every pain in his body as Bruce set him in the backseat of the Batmobile. "Just—keep breathing. Don't die."

Dick would keep breathing. For Bruce, if for no one else.

* * *

Dick woke up sobbing. Okay, so he wasn't quite _awake,_ awake, but he was coherent enough to realize that his whole body was on fire, the pain so fierce that he could barely breathe, and all he wanted, all he _needed_ , was Bruce.

Where was Bruce?

"Here," Bruce said, and when Dick opened his eyes, Bruce really _was_ there, holding Dick's hand with a death grip, sitting next to Dick's bedside, and Dick sobbed harder—in relief this time. Thank God. _Thank God._ "I'm here, Dick. I'm right here."

And that was enough.

The next time Dick woke up, it was with a bit more coherency. He was in his bedroom, he was alive, and Bruce wasn't there. There was a muted pain humming just underneath his skin, and he thought he should probably be in more pain than he was in, at the moment. That question was answered when he turned his head slightly to the left and spotted the IV.

Pain killers. Of course.

Dick wondered if that meant Leslie had been by. Probably. Dick's last memories of being awake were tinged with the red burning of indescribably pain that even a miracle butler couldn't quench on his own. So, he couldn't say for sure, but it definitely wouldn't surprise him.

The door opened then, interrupting Dick's attempt to figure his thoughts out, and Dick heard a few soft footsteps that could only be one person. Bruce paused when he saw that Dick was awake, and Dick tilted his head towards him—the furthest he could without making the pain sing in his veins, that is.

(It wasn't very far.)

"Dick," Bruce said, and his voice was thick with grief that Dick didn't quite understand, because Bruce was the one who had told him to stay alive. He wasn't dead, so Bruce shouldn't look like that.

"Wha—?" Dick tried to ask, but he cut off in a hoarse cough. His throat was sore, swollen, and he couldn't manage to get the words out. Bruce patiently helped him drink from a glass of water with a bendy straw in it. But when he was finished, when Dick opened his mouth to speak again, Bruce interrupted him.

"You shouldn't speak," Bruce said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Alfred had to intubate you."

Oh.

He blinked, but his eyelids were heavier than normal when he tried, and he ended up with his eyes half-open. Bruce noticed, and he sent Dick a sad smile, tinged with bitterness and grief at the very edges, and Dick wished that he could stay awake, that he could talk so he could understand why Bruce looked like he'd just lost someone again.

"Go back to sleep, Dick," Bruce told him, brushing his hair back. "I'll be here when you wake up again."

* * *

"—of all times to not pick up—oh. Hi."

Wally peered over the top of the couch to where Uncle Barry was sitting at the dining room table. The TV was on mute, since Barry had told him he needed to make a "work" call. Yeah, Wally wasn't stupid enough to believe Barry was calling anyone from the CCPD, especially since Barry was using a phone Wally had never seen before.

"I need your—wait. What? What happened?"

Wally wondered which superhero Barry was talking to, though, because his uncle looked super pale. Like he was about to pass out, and Wally didn't like the look of it.

"Well, is he okay?" Barry asked the person on the phone. He paled even further at whatever answer he received, if that was even possible. "Hell. Do you know how long it's going to take for him to recover, at least?" There was another pause, this one at least twice as long as the one before, and then Barry was speaking again. "Is there anything I can do? No, it's not urgent. I just needed your computer to look up someone's identity, is all. I'll ask Clark, instead."

Wally tuned out, not really interest in the rest of Barry's conversation. He didn't know who Clark was, and he didn't know who was hurt, but Barry was going to put him on the backburner during runs if Wally interrupted another "work" call.

And if by the time Barry got off the phone Wally forgot to ask about it, well, that could all be put down to his stomach. He was curious, but he was also _starving._

* * *

Bruce wasn't there when Dick woke up again, even though he said he would be, and Dick had to push away the stab of betrayal, because he didn't even know how long he'd been asleep. Maybe Bruce was in the bathroom, or eating dinner, or even patrol. Dick didn't know the circumstances, and he wouldn't think the worst of one of his most important people.

So Dick sat there for a few hours, waiting for Bruce to come back, but when the sun peeked through his curtains, Dick couldn't take it anymore. He'd go find Bruce himself if he had to. There was no way he could sit there staring at the ceiling any longer.

He pushed himself into a sitting position slowly, careful not to jostle anything. His chest was completely swathed in bandages, his right arm was in a brace, his head was wrapped, and he felt like one big giant bruise. On top of that, Dick didn't want to ruin whatever careful work Leslie and Alfred had done to save him. It was only when he was sitting up that he pulled the IV out with a slight wince, and then slowly started the process of getting out of bed.

It was just as he had stood upright that Dick's door opened, and then a voice cried, "What are you _doing?"_

Dick blinked up at a pale Bruce, and sure, he was swaying a little, but he'd gotten to his feet with minimal damage, and it didn't hurt _that_ much. Dick was just about to tell that to Bruce, too, but the swaying turned into falling without his permission. Bruce dove forward, catching Dick just before he could fall forward and crack his head on his own bedroom floor.

"What the hell were you even _thinking?_ "Bruce asked, and he sounded angry, just the barest undertones of worry in his voice. "You're not in any shape to be out of bed, Dick!"

"I was fine," Dick argued as Bruce tucked him back into bed, resolutely _not_ telling Bruce that he'd only been up to find him. "Besides, I've been up for hours. It was just going to be a stroll around the bedroom."

"Not until Leslie takes you off bedrest," Bruce snapped.

Dick huffed, watching as, despite Bruce's harsh word, he refitted the IV into the cannula as gently as possible. "I'm okay," Dick said. "I promise."

Bruce's gaze snapped to his, his dark eyes glinting. "You're _not_ okay," he growled. "Not even a week ago, you were lying downstairs in the Cave _dying,_ Dick. You've been in a coma for days, and it's only been two days since Leslie said that you were stable enough to move to your bedroom. That is _not_ okay."

Dick was taken aback. "But I _will_ be okay. Just give me a few weeks and I'll be swinging from buildings better than even before!"

"No, you won't," Bruce told him, a cold finality to his words that had Dick's stomach sinking to his feet. "As long as I have something to do with it, you won't be going out there again."

Dick couldn't breathe. He couldn't draw in any oxygen, and his chest was so still that he feared that this was all some weird hallucination of death. To be tortured with his worst fears as he lay dying in the real world, because Bruce would never do that to him. He _knew_ how much Robin meant to Dick, so he would _never_ snatch it away.

"What are you saying?" Dick croaked out.

Bruce met his eyes, and Dick searched for some sort of sign that this was all some kind of sick joke—but no. Bruce looked nothing but cold as he broke Dick's heart in half.

"Robin is finished," Bruce told him, and Dick finally took a breath and proved that this was reality. He was alive, and this was really happening. Robin was being snatched from his very hands. "You're fired."

Dick didn't speak again. He dropped his head, he gritted his teeth, and he cried silently. Bruce got up from his chair and left the room, left _Dick,_ and Dick couldn't understand why this was happening to him. First, he'd bargained Judge Watkins' life and _lost,_ then Two-Face had almost killed him, and now Bruce didn't want Robin anymore, didn't want _him_ anymore?

How was any of that fair?! He'd already lost his parents, his home. He'd lost it already once, and now it felt like it was being taken away once again. One mistake. That was all it had taken, and now, Robin was finished.

Batman didn't need him, and neither did Bruce.

* * *

 _"What?!"_ Barry yelled, startlingly Wally from his phone. From the other couch, even Iris looked bewildered, and they both looked over to the door Barry had just walked in, talking into his superhero phone. "You've got to be _kidding_ me. Why would you do that?!"

Wally met his aunt's eyes worriedly, because Barry sounded really stressed, and not in a good way. It was the same tone he used when the whole planet was about to get blown up or something. Wally wondered, not for the first time, if he could go with.

Probably not. Barry had a list of things of things he was allowed to do as Kid Flash barring some emergency—the same one that Robin had used when _he_ first started out, if a little modified to adjust for Wally's powers.

"No," Barry hissed, and was that _venom_ in his voice. Just _who_ was he talking to? _"No._ No way in hell. Go talk to him and apologize for being a fucking ass before you lose him. He'll forgive you, even if he shouldn't."

 _Woah._ Barry didn't swear. Like, ever. And here he was, so angry that he was cursing into his phone. Over _apologizing?_ Wally was definitely missing the context of this.

Barry sighed into the phone, the tension falling from his shoulders as he plopped on the couch next to Iris. Wally's aunt moved her laptop to the coffee table and intertwined her fingers with Barry's free hand, and all Wally could do was watch. He hadn't realized how _tired_ Barry looked before.

"Of course I think he's going to run away!" Barry snapped suddenly, sitting up ramrod straight and glaring at the floor. "He's an eleven year old boy, and you just shattered his whole world! God, push past your ego for _two seconds_ and go tell him you're—he hung up on me!"

Barry stared at the phone in disbelief, his eyes moving to meet Iris' gaze.

"He just hung up on me!"

"I don't know what's going on, Barry," Iris reminded him gently, "and I can't help you unless you tell me."

"Is everything okay?" Wally asked hesitantly. "I mean," he tried again when Barry's weary eyes settled on him, "that didn't sound too good, but not it's not, like, the end of the world, is it?"

Barry slumped back into the couch again. "It might as well be," Barry sighed, "because Batman just lost his partner."

Iris paled and Wally sucked in a sharp breath. "You don't mean…?"

Barry's eyes widened, and he seemed to realize that he'd just implied that Robin was _dead,_ and he waved his hands frantically in an attempt to backtrack. "No, no. It's not—I mean, it _was_ a close call, but that was over a week ago, and he's been stable for a few days now."

"So what _did_ you mean, then?" Iris asked, and she looked concerned.

Barry looked grim, and he didn't meet anyone's eyes when he said, "Batman fired Robin."

"You're kidding," Wally said. Then a sudden fear swept over him, because—because— "You're not going to me, right? Fire me, I mean?"

"No!" Barry said, standing up and running a hand down his face. "God, no. Wally, you've got to believe me. I didn't force you into this. This was your own decision, and I know I could never force you out of it. It's your choice."

Wally let his shoulders slump in relief. "Oh, thank goodness."

"So what does that mean for Robin?" Iris wondered, her eyebrows furrowing. "Batman just decided that he's done, so he's done?"

"It's complicated," Barry said. "Of course he's not going to roll over and take this, but he can barely move right now, and from what I heard, Batman and Robin weren't able to save a hostage during the last fight, either. He's not in any shape to fight for his costume, right now, and the longer that Batman sits on this decision, the more stubborn he's going to get."

"You said Robin was going to run away," Wally breathed, his eyes wide. "Will he?"

"Probably. When he can move."

"So what do can we do?" Iris asked.

Barry looked defeated. "For now? Nothing." And it looked like it physically pained him to say it.

Well, Wally supposed he would have to take Barry's word for it, because short of going to Gotham and finding the two people that most people in the city they protect had never seen, Wally wasn't sure what he could do.

So, he did nothing, and he hated how helpless it made him feel.

* * *

Finally, _finally,_ Leslie approved Dick for physical therapy, and Dick put his heart and soul into it. He hadn't quite pushed past that feeling of feeling like Bruce didn't think he was good enough, but Dick had a plan now. He'd get fit enough to go out as Robin again, and he _would_ go out.

He'd done it before. He'd struck out on his own while searching for Zucco, so why not now, when he was properly trained? He'd prove to Bruce—to _Batman_ —that he could handle being Robin, that it was a mistake to fire Robin.

In the meantime, though, he and Bruce were on pins and needles. Neither of them talked to each other, only Alfred, and Dick did his best not to be angry. Bruce just didn't think Robin was good enough to be Batman's partner, but Dick would show him.

It was a Thursday morning, just a week after Bruce had fired Robin, that Dick decided he couldn't wait a minute longer. He was still a mess of bruises, and the brace wasn't coming off anytime soon, but the sooner he got out of Bruce's way and figured out what he was going to do, the sooner that he could prove his worth. He could already do a double-flip, after all. He was okay enough to do this.

So while Bruce was at work for an emergency meeting with Lucius, and Dick packed a bag, walked to the nearest zeta tube, and then he was gone, the only trace of him left behind a note to Bruce.

He could do this. He would prove himself.

* * *

Barry's phone was ringing. It was the third time in the past ten minutes, and Barry was currently laid up in bed after a nasty encounter with a robber. Wally hesitated to answer it, though, because it was Barry's "work" phone, and Wally wasn't sure who'd be on the other line.

Whoever it was, they were persistent, and Wally wondered if there was something catastrophic going on. If that was the case, they had to know that Barry was too hurt to help them, and if they really needed a speedster, he would offer his services. He was pretty sure that this would count as one of those emergency times, and the list didn't matter all that much.

He answered the call.

 _"Where is he?"_ a voice growled in his ear, and Wally froze, because that didn't sound like a superhero at all. That was—Was that a villain? Had someone figured out how to contact the superhero cell phones? _"Answer me! Where's Robin?"_

Oh. _Oh._ Wally let out a relieved breath, because he got it now.

"Uh, Batman?" Wally started, unsure how he was supposed to address the scariest hero in the Justice League. "Flash is hurt, so he can't talk right now."

There was a pause, and Wally waited nervously for Batman to start talking again. God, this was nerve wracking. From just the few words exchanged with the Dark Knight, Wally's knees were starting to shake, and he couldn't imagine what it would be like for Robin to work with Batman all the time.

 _"Kid Flash, I presume,"_ Batman said, a touch calmer than before. _"Is Robin with you or the Flash?"_

"Uh, not that I know of," Wally sighed. "Can I ask why?"

 _"No,"_ Batman said, and then he hung up, apparently having gotten all the information he needed. Wally stared at the phone for a few minutes, and then gingerly set it down on the coffee table, because he could probably go a thousand years without hearing that growly voice and it'd _still_ be too long.

"Thanks for that."

 _"HOLY—"_ Wally jumped back and looked at the ceiling where there—holy shit. Robin was hanging from the ceiling like some kind of spider. There wasn't even anything _there._ How was he even staying there?! Wally thought that Robin didn't have any powers. "What the _hell_ , man?"

Robin shot him a sheepish small and dropped down to the floor like a _normal_ person—not that Wally was normal, but at least he didn't hang from the ceiling like sort of ninja.

"Sorry," Robin said, straightening up, and Wally realized that Robin looked _really_ small. Didn't Barry say that Robin was eleven? He looked more like nine or ten. Robin dropped down on the couch and sighed. "Man, that was a close call."

Wally blinked. "What was?"

"The call."

"Oh," Wally said, realizing what Robin was talking about. "You're—Batman's looking for you."

"I know," Robin said, and he said it so easily, like he was so _unaffected,_ that Wally was thrown for a loop. Because even running away, Wally didn't think he would _not_ feel anything if he heard that Barry was looking for him.

"What's your problem?" Wally asked, feeling a little heated, because no one looked _that_ apathetic about running away. They felt _something_.

Robin tilted his head towards him. "What do you mean?"

"Batman's looking for you, and you're acting like you don't even care!"

"You don't know me," Robin told him, his voice calm but his fists clenched, and Wally took a step back, because now he _got it._ He got how someone like Robin was able to work with the terrifying Bat. He was _just like him._ "You don't know anything about me, so how would _you_ know if I cared or not."

"Well you're not showing it," Wally argued.

"Doesn't mean that I don't feel it." Robin relaxed suddenly. "So, the Flash is hurt?"

Wally huffed an annoyed breath. Robin was _younger_ than him, and yet here he was, controlling the entire situation here, and Wally understood what Barry had been complaining about before. About Batman. This kid was kind of annoying, the way he took charge of the conversation, changing the subject like that.

Still, Wally didn't know how to direct the conversation elsewhere, and he thought that maybe Robin would just go bother Barry if he didn't get an answer from Wally, so he decided to take the easiest route.

"Yeah," Wally told him, plopping down on the other couch. "He took a few bullets when he tried to move a group of people out of the way. He just got home like an hour ago."

"Where were you?"

"At home," Wally scowled. "It happened at work, so I wasn't able to get there before he was already shot."

Robin hummed contemplatively. "Sounds rough. So I guess you're Kid Flash?"

"Yeah, so what?"

Robin smiled, but it was sort of empty, like he was forcing it on his face, and Wally couldn't help but shiver. Maybe the ninja thing wasn't the superpower. Maybe it was that creepy smile. It wouldn't surprise Wally that just terrifying people was Robin and Batman's power.

"Nothing, just happy that there's another kid out there doing the crime fighting thing with me."

Wally licked his lips. "Barry said that Batman fired you?" Wally asked more than said, and when Robin didn't say anything, Wally kept going. "You don't have to answer, but— _why?_ You were the kid that inspired me and Speedy to even become superheroes. Why would Batman think it's a good idea to fire someone like you?"

"I messed up," Robin said quietly, and he wasn't looking at Wally anymore. Or at least, Wally didn't think he was. Hard to tell with that mask. "Judge Watkins was killed because of me, and Batman had to hurt himself to save me. He doesn't think I'm good enough to be Robin."

"So you ran away?" Wally asked, eyebrows furrowing, because this was the realest the kid had been since he'd ninja'd his way in. "What does that solve?"

Robin shrugged. "I was trying to prove to Batman that I could be Robin, with or without him, but I was hoping that I'd have a bit more time. It's only been a couple of hours, and he's already trying to track me."

"Obviously he still cares about what happens to you," Wally said. "So I don't get why you don't just sneak out of the house every night after he's already gone out. Why run away?"

"I didn't say he _didn't_ care about me," Robin pointed out. He sent Wally a wry smile, like he was trying to laugh at something that used to be funny but tasted bitter at the edges. "As for sneaking out, you don't know the security B has around the house. Batman's super paranoid about everything. I'd never make it past the entrance to the Cave."

"Oh," Wally said, and he felt kind of sad for the kid. He had to run away in order to prove himself? That _sucked._ Batman sounded like a real tool. "Well, you can probably stay here for as long as you want. I know Iris won't mind. Barry might, but he probably won't even know you're here until morning."

"Why?"

"Oh, well speedsters have _super_ fast metabolisms, so Barry's on a lot of painkillers, right now. You could probably blow an airhorn in his ear and he won't do much more than smile at you. I've tried it before."

That startled a laugh out of Robin, and Wally smiled. The kid was kind of okay, when he wasn't being a jerk. And as long as he didn't put on that air of apathy, Wally didn't mind hanging around him. Besides, being Batman's partner had probably done something irreparable to his personality, so Wally didn't think he should blame Robin too much.

"Well, Rob," Wally said, clapping his hands. "What say you and I go upstairs and set up a sleeping bag for you?"

Robin, still smiling, stood up. "I'd like that. Thanks."

* * *

"KF?" Wally asked him, standing at the stove with a blank look. The eggs were starting to burn, but Wally looked too out of it to care, so Dick didn't bring attention to it. "Why KF?"

Dick shrugged. "Well, you gave _me_ a nickname, and Kid Flash is a mouthful, so I shortened it." Wally seemed to think about it for a second, and Dick supposed that he couldn't let those eggs burn any more than they already were if he wanted anything edible for breakfast. "Kid Flash. The stove."

Wally blinked. "The stove…? Oh! The stove!" He turned back around and switched off the gas, saving the eggs just in time. Wally grimaced down at the pan. "Well, I hope you like your eggs super crispy, because those were the only eggs we had in the fridge."

Dick snickered. "I'm fine with whatever."

Wally sent him a dark look. "I swear I can cook."

"I believe you."

"You don't!"

"I do, too!" Dick said, grinning. "Just show me later."

"Fine," Wally grumbled. "But you're not allowed to talk to me. You keep distracting me."

"Who keeps distracting you?" Barry asked, looking not at all shot, and very coherent as he walked into the kitchen. He wrinkled his nose at the burnt eggs smell that permeated the room, and he rushed to open the window. "How the heck did you burn _eggs?"_

"With great skill," Wally snapped. "They would have been fine if I _hadn't been distracted."_

Dick sniggered again, and Barry whirled around, catching sight of him sitting on top of the kitchen cabinets, ten feet up in the air. "It's training," Dick told him. "You know, multi-tasking. If you can talk and cook at the same time, you can do anything!"

Wally rolled his eyes, scraping the eggs onto two plates. "Yeah, yeah. You and your Bat-training."

"Dick," Barry breathed, and both Wally and Dick froze, because uh-oh. Dick was still in his Robin costume for a _reason._ And that reason had been that he had not told Wally anything about his secret identity. Of course, Barry's speedster mouth had run ahead and gave Dick away before he could think about it. "Oh, shoot. Sorry, Robin. We're usually in the Cave when…Sorry."

"It's fine," Dick said, jumping to the floor and peeling off his mask, trying not to show how nervous he felt. "I trust you guys."

Wally was staring at him, two plates of scrambled eggs in his hands. Dick sent Wally a wobbly smile, and Wally sent an equally shaky one back. Then he turned his back on the kitchen and walked into the dining room.

"We should eat breakfast," Wally announced. "Like, now."

Dick laughed a little, because who knew that Kid Flash could be so _awkward?_ He followed Wally into the dining room, and settled down in the chair across from Wally. Barry followed him out, looking contrite, but he didn't look _too_ put out.

When their pretty silent breakfast was over—which Dick and Wally spent the majority making silly faces at each other—Dick followed Wally back upstairs to the guest room (Wally had been staying with Barry and Iris for the past few weeks, but Wally wouldn't tell Dick why. Which was fine. Dick was already intruding majorly, and he didn't want to pry into anything Wally didn't want him to).

"I think I should change," Dick said, turning to Wally's closest to pull out the bag he'd hidden in the hamper—which had been empty when he'd put the bag into it, but Dick had just pulled a few clothes over it and it was completely hidden from view.

"When did you hide that?" Wally asked, sounding bewildered.

Robin winced. "Uh, after you fell asleep. I left in the garden before, but I didn't want anyone to steal it and look through it."

Wally made a "huh" sound, but he didn't sound anything other than a little weirded out, so Dick took the opportunity to slip into the bathroom, change into his jeans and hoodie, and slip back out. Wally was changed, too, and they went back downstairs. Wally wasn't giving his face weird looks anymore, so Dick assumed that Wally had moved on from learning his secret identity.

Either that, or he didn't recognize Dick. Dick honestly didn't care about which it was, though. It was just nice to have a friend—at least, he hoped Wally was a friend—his age that he could share his secrets with.

* * *

"Why did you do it?" Wally asked quietly a little while later. They were the only ones home right then, since both Iris and Barry had to work, and Wally couldn't help but be curious about Robin's life, about his roots. "Why did you become Robin?"

"I'm originally from the circus. An acrobat," Robin said, and it sounded like he was choosing his words very carefully. "And it was my first show on the trapeze without a net, performing with my parents. This guy, Tony Zucco, was trying to blackmail the ringmaster, scam him, or something. Maybe he wanted money, maybe he wanted something else, I don't know."

Robin sounded so miserable remembering, and Wally immediately felt guilty about asking. "Hey," he said. "If you don't want to tell me, you don't have to. We've all got our origin stories."

Robin smiled, and even though it was tinged with sadness, it looked real and genuine. "I like you, KF, and I really want to be your friend. I _want_ to tell you. You'd be one of three people who know this story, and I trust you."

Wally could nod. "Okay. I—I want to be your friend, too."

"So, Zucco wanted money," Robin said, and Wally listened intently as Robin recounted the story of how his parents fell to their deaths, of how Bruce Wayne saved him from rotting in a juvenile detention hall, of how he snuck out of the house to avenge his parents. "Batman found me before I could do anything I would regret," Robin ended. "We caught him, and then we became partners."

Wally was dumbfounded. "Wow. That's a lot to take in. Batman is a lot different than the stories I've heard about him."

"Yeah," Robin agreed. "Bruce can be a lot to handle sometimes, but he's like a second father to me. We're partners, you know? We know each other."

"So why are you running?" Wally asked.

"What do you mean?" Robin asked. "I already said that—"

"I know what you said," Wally told him. He leaned forward on the couch, eager to make Robin understand this. Maybe impart some wisdom that being two years old could give. "I mean, I'm a speedster. I know all about running. But it just sounds like you're running from Batman more than you're trying to prove you can be Robin. Why?"

Robin seemed to think about it, and they sat in silence for a long time. Wally could see the gears turning in Rob's head, and he wasn't eager to interrupt him.

"I don't know," Robin breathed after a while. "I just—I don't know."

* * *

He came at night, when Wally was softly snoring on the bed and Dick was just about to fall into a good sleep, even if he still sort of ached and he was sleeping on the floor. It was just a shadow in the window at first, plunging Wally's room into darkness for a few moments, the streetlight blocked as the shadow search the room.

Dick froze, hardly daring to breathe. He was _so_ glad he was on the other side of Wally's bed, the furthest from the window. There was no way he could be seen from the window at this angle.

It was only when the light returned to the room that Dick pushed himself to his knees, his heart beating in his chest. It hadn't even been _two days,_ and he'd already found Dick? Was it a sure thing, or was he just guessing? Covering his bases before he started searching random alleys.

"Wally," Dick hissed, and Wally's snoring stuttered to a stop. "Wally!" Dick called again.

"Rob?" Wally murmured into the darkness, squinting over the side of the bed at him. "Wha's going on?"

"He's here!"

"Who's here?"

"Batman!"

"Holy crap," Wally breathed, sitting upright in his bed. "Where?"

"I don't know," Dick said, worried. "He was at the window a little bit ago, but it's definitely him. I thought I'd be able to swing at least one more day here before he found me, but I think I was a little too naïve."

Wally sighed. "Look, Rob," he said, trying to sound all wise again, and Dick struggled to keep a straight face. "You said before you don't know why you're running away from him. Why not just face him and tell him you won't take no for an answer? You chose to be Robin, so he can't take it away."

He thought that he'd been doing that by running away. Bruce hadn't wanted a partner anymore, which was fine. Dick could handle that. He was smart enough to put two and two together, and Dick had messed up too big this time. He'd accidentally killed Judge Watkins, and Batman didn't need a partner like him.

But Dick was Robin, and Bruce couldn't take Robin away from him. By running away, Dick had thought he was going to prove it.

But Bruce didn't just not want a partner, he didn't want Dick to be Robin. He proved that by coming after Dick, and maybe Wally was right. Maybe Dick just needed to stick it to Bruce. The _my way or the high way_ approach.

The door opened with a creak, and Dick stiffened, because there he was. Batman, hidden in the shadows, and Dick, who should have been used to after two years living with the man—who _was_ used to it—squeaked in fright.

Bruce sighed—and Dick froze, because it was _Bruce_ more than Batman that was standing in the doorway. Bruce pulled back the cowl and kneeled down next to Dick.

"Are you alright?" Bruce asked.

"Fine," Dick breathed, his eyes wide. "I'm fine. Barry, Iris, and Wally have been taking care of me."

"Speaking of Barry," Wally said from the bed, his eyes just as wide as Dick's when Bruce's attention settled on his, "does he know that you're in here?"

Bruce grimaced. "Probably not."

"They have to still be awake," Wally argued weakly. I mean, it's barely awake, and Iris has that article due in the morning that she's been freaking out over all day. How did you get past them?"

"I'm Batman," Bruce said, like that explained everything, and even though it did, Dick couldn't help but laugh at Wally's gob smacked face. Bruce turned his attention back to Dick, and the laughter died on Dick's lips.

Dick cleared his throat, his stomach a ball of nerves. "Hi, Bruce."

"Hi, Dick," Bruce said, not missing a beat. "Care to explain what that note was about?"

Dick winced. "Uh, you read that?"

"Of course I read it," Bruce told him, settling tailor-style on the floor in front of Dick. "I came home from work to find my son missing and a note explaining pretty much nothing other than that you were running away."

"Sorry," Dick said softly. "I didn't mean to make you worry or anything."

"How could I not?" Bruce said. "I've been searching for you for two days, Dick, nonstop. You can't seriously believe that just because I fired Robin that meant I didn't want you."

"Well, that's what it felt like!" Dick argued, his temper flaring. "Every time you've benched me before it's been as a punishment! Why should this time be any different? You said Robin was fired, and to me that sounded like you didn't need me anymore!"

"So you _ran away?_ Dick, I've been worried sick about you!"

"I was trying to prove that I could be Robin, with or without you," Dick told him, glaring at the floor. "You wouldn't listen to me before, so I thought that it would be better without me."

Bruce settled a hand on Dick's shoulder, both of them ignoring the way Wally was creeping out of the room to give them some privacy. "Dick, look at me," Bruce demanded, and Dick did, but it was with some resentment. "Robin or not, I'm always going to need you."

"That's not—"

"Robin or not," Bruce repeated, "I'm always going to need you. You're my son, Dick. I know I'm not John, but I care about you, and you got really hurt a few weeks ago. I was terrified, Dick."

"But being Robin is my choice," Dick told him. "I know the risks, Bruce! Just like you do!"

"You're a _child_ ," and Bruce looked angry now. "I'm an adult. I can take a hit. You're eleven, and you almost died."

"So let's work on more evasion maneuvers! More training!" Dick cried. "But this is my choice! Robin is _my_ name, and you can't take it away from me anymore than I can take Batman away from you! _Robin is a part of me!"_

Bruce was quiet for a moment, his lips thin as he stared down at Dick, and Dick realized he was trembling with emotion, tears spilling down his cheeks as he fought for the very thing that kept him alive sometimes.

He _loved_ being Robin. He got to help people, he got to _fly._ Working as Batman and Robin, it was more than most people could ever dream of, and Dick absolutely loved making a difference. He loved giving people hope, and Bruce was trying to take that hope away. And Dick just didn't understand _why._

Bruce let out a slow, controlled breath. "Dick, I want you to listen to me, okay?" Dick nodded, biting his lip. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for trying to take Robin away from you, and I won't do it again. _But,"_ Bruce said before Dick could do more than suck in a sharp breath, "after your physical therapy, I'm not going to immediately put you back in the field. I was too naïve before, thinking you could get away with the basics."

Dick blinked, his eyebrows furrowing. "What do you mean?"

"You know I trained around the world for years," Bruce told him quietly. "I trained you for a few months and then set you loose, thinking that giving you practical experience would be the best option for you. And it was, but I think I let you out a bit too early."

"But I've trained as an acrobat my whole life," Dick argued. "It's not like I don't have any training."

"Yes," Bruce said slowly, "and that training has helped you a lot. But you're also an eleven year old kid. So, I propose two more months of combat training, of simulation training for Gotham's brand of criminals, and we can call this a deal. You in?"

"Yeah," Dick breathed. It sounded fair. Bruce was worried, Dick got that now. He didn't want Dick to get hurt, and Dick could last two months of training, because he'd done it before. "Yeah, I'm in."

* * *

"Wait a minute," Barry said, standing up in alarm. "Are you telling me that Batman is upstairs right now? In my _house?"_

"Uh, yes?" Wally tried. "Him and Rob are talking things out, I guess. Not sure how it'll turn out, though. It didn't sound very good."

"Well," said Iris, setting her cup of coffee down on the coffee table next to her laptop, "If it doesn't work out with Batman, Robin's always welcome here."

Wally grinned. "Thanks, Aunt Iris."

Barry sighed. "You know what, I'm going to go tell Clark what happened, and then Bruce is going to get in trouble. After that, don't involve me anymore. I don't think I could take it."

"KF!" Robin called, vaulting over the banister and landing in the living room in a crouch. Wally could only watch with wide eyes as the grinning kid tackled him in a hug. "Hey, thanks for your advice, KF. It worked!"

"Um," Wally said as Robin detangled himself from Wally, "glad to hear it?"

"You going home, kiddo?" Iris asked, looking properly amused. Wally shot her a betrayed look, because she _knew_ he wasn't big on hugging. "We definitely wouldn't mind another night with you here."

Robin smiled shyly. "Thanks, but Bruce is going to take me home now. Thanks for letting me stay here."

"Anytime, apparently," Barry said, and Iris slapped his arm playfully. "What? You said you'd take him if Batman didn't want him."

"Oh, Batman says he wants me," Robin said to Iris innocently, and Wally had to squash the urge to ask where that charm had come from, because it _only_ seemed to come out around Iris. Which, Wally didn't mind much, since he found it a little annoying, but still. "Sorry, Iris."

Iris laughed. "That's okay. You gone on home, then. I'm sure Batman has missed you."

"Bye, KF," Rob said.

Wally smiled back at him. "Bye, Rob."

Robin laughed, waved, and ninja'd back up over the banister again, disappearing upstairs—probably leaving out Wally's bedroom window.

"Can't they just use the door like normal people?" Wally complained as he collapsed on the couch.

Barry snorted. "Have you _met_ Batman?"

Wally sighed. "Unfortunately."

* * *

"It's good to see you, Master Dick," Alfred said when Dick and Bruce had appeared in the zeta tubes, and Dick almost started crying right then and there. Dick leaned into Bruce's side, who'd taken the cowl off again, instead of running to hug Alfred since the butler wasn't the biggest on physical contact. "I am glad to see that you are alright."

"I'm okay," Dick confirmed as Bruce wrapped an arm around him. "It's good to be home."

* * *

 **I'm not too sure how I feel about this despite the days of work I put into it :/ I hope that all of you at least enjoyed it. Thanks for reading!**


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